Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“Urgh,” Tiffany groans, sagging. Quickly, I get my door open, but she’s already sunk to her knees. I’m tempted to just urge her in that way, crawling, but whatever she was thinking when she drank that drink, she doesn’t deserve that indignity.
So instead, I squat down and help her up again. “Upsie daisy,” I tell her in a quiet voice, although I don’t think she really understands me. “I’m going to carry you in, Tiffany. Do me a favor. Try to hold onto my neck a bit? For balance’s sake?”
Tiffany’s grip isn’t much as I pick her up, carrying her into my place like a bridegroom on his wedding night. I kick the door closed behind me, not worrying about the lock, and carry Tiffany into the living room, hanging a quick left to the guest bathroom. She hiccups, and a wave of sweet alcohol breath wafts over me.
Thankfully, even with a stomach full of booze, Tiffany’s pretty lightweight, or maybe the weightlifting I’ve added to my workout regimen to deal with work stress is working. Either way, I’m able to nearly run with her to the bathroom, where she pukes in the shower stall. At least that’ll be an easy clean-up, I think, grateful for the shower wand.
When she’s done, she sags back, sitting on the floor, propped up against the wall under her own power, so she’s at least semi-conscious.
“Feel better now that it’s mostly out of your system?” I ask. She flashes me a weak thumbs-up, eyeing me warily through half-closed slits. I’m not sure if she’s confused or embarrassed.
Both, maybe?
“Okay, I’m going to go lock the front door,” I tell her quietly. “Just breathe, and we’ll get through this.”
I run back to the door, locking it and then getting back to my priority, Tiffany. When I get back to the bathroom, she’s still sitting there, still awake, which is a good sign of progress. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I whisper, sitting down on the closed toilet. “You called me from the bar. You remember that?”
“Mmmhmm.” It’s more of a hum than agreement, and her eyes flutter. “Tankoo.”
“We need to get you cleaned up. Do you think you can stand in the shower?” I already know the answer.
“Nu-uh,” she groans, her dark brows wrinkling in displeasure.
“Well, how about a bath then?” I chatter, helping her up. “The main bathroom has a tub, and Elle’s still got some clothes around here somewhere.”
Tiffany nods, though I don’t think she understood anything I said. She leans on me, her feet barely touching the floor as I take her across the condo to my bathroom, though she does mumble something that sounds like ‘pretty’ when she sees the city lights out the living room windows through her half-opened eyes.
She seems able to stand on her own, so I release her to draw a warm bath, dumping in a large drizzle of some almond honey scented bubble bath Elle sent me from England for my birthday. I stand, turning back to her. “Okay, then . . . whoa.”
Tiffany’s stripped. Naked.
It’s probably a good thing, considering her clothes, and it’s something she’d have to do to get in the tub, but this is not what I was expecting. Slitting my eyes and trying to be a good guy, I help her get in the tub safely, then grab her clothes from the floor.
“I’m going to toss these in the washer and get you something fresh to wear.”
“Mmmkay,” she murmurs. I can’t tell if that’s more clear or less, though.
Quickly, I start the laundry and find an old pair of Elle’s sweats and one of my T-shirts, which should be enough to keep Tiffany comfortable while her things wash.
“Knock, knock,” I say, coming back into the bathroom slowly to drop her things off. “I found a few things that . . . Tiffany!”
She’s snoring, head leaned back on the tub rim and the bubbles nowhere near what they need to be to cover her, but they’re dangerously close to her chin since she’s sagging down so far. I can’t leave her like this. Any minute now, she could slip beneath the water and drown.
Snatching a big bath towel from the stack under the sink, I stretch it out to try and cover her as much as I can to provide her with a bit of modesty. I sit on the floor beside the tub, keeping my eyes firmly on Tiffany from just the shoulders up.
She’s beautiful, even with the bleariness of drunkenness in her system, and needs me to keep her safe and take care of her.
I can do that. That’s something I’m good at.
A few minutes later, my phone dings, and I check, seeing that it’s Elle.
Did Tiff call u?
Yes. Got her, taken care of.
Knew you would. Thanks, Daddy.
What happened?
Nothing bad. Think she sucked down a drink a bit too fast, not realizing how strong it was. Guess she’s a lightweight now. LOL